When Real Life Meets A Fairy Tale
by lil-miss-chocolate
Summary: Or  more accurately : When A Fairy Tale Crash Lands In Real Life's Bathroom In The Middle Of The Night And Has No Clue Why It Is There. Kurt/Chris.
1. Main Story

**When Real Life Meets A Fairy Tale  
Or (more accurately): When A Fairy Tale Crash Lands In Real Life's Bathroom In The Middle Of The Night And Has No Clue Why It Is There**

**Author:** lil-miss-chocolate  
**Rating:** NC17  
**Characters:** Kurt/Chris. Yes, really.  
**Genre:** Crack Smut  
**Warning:** Half RPF, half regular fic. Boys getting it on.  
**Spoilers:** Minor one about Ryan's plans for Kurt in S2.  
**Word Count:** 3,000ish  
**Summary:** Fill for Glee Kink Meme prompt: "RPF-ish? Chris/Kurt. Do what you will with it anon."

**Because I've seen so many of these prompts on the kink meme, and I got tired of waiting for someone else to write it. It is officially the weirdest thing I have ever written.**

**Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional. I do not claim to know anything at all about Chris's private life other than what he has stated in interviews. Kurt (much as I might wish otherwise) is the property of Fox.**

* * *

Chris rolled over in his bed and looked at the glowing red figures of his clock. 11:59. Shit. They've got dance rehearsal at six o'clock tomorrow morning, and he needs to sleep. He'd tried everything; counting sheep, relaxing each muscle one at a time, drinking hot cocoa. As the number flicked to 00:00, he heard a crash from his bathroom and a muffled flump. Simultaneously, a strange blue light flashed around the doorframe. He got up out of bed and picked up the paperweight he kept handy there, slowly approaching the bathroom door.

Chris heard a voice muttering from inside the bathroom. The inflections sounded strangely familiar, but he couldn't identify it. Chris carefully opened the bathroom door to reveal... himself. He did a double-take, making sure that someone hadn't propped a mirror there. The version of himself standing in the bathroom (who appeared to be wearing his costume from three days ago, the grey moustache t-shirt with the striped pants and the long boots) had an annoyed expression on his face as he spoke, "What the hell is going on? Who ar-re..." The not-Chris stuttered to a stop as he took in the face of the crumpled man standing before him.

Chris took advantage of the silence to ask his own question. "Are you... a really obsessive fan or something?"

"What?" the boy in the bathroom asked. "Fan? Of what? Where am I? And who are you? Why do you look just like me?"

"I'm Chris. You just appeared in my bathroom."

"Why?"

"Search me." There was a pause. They looked each other up and down, then Chris spoke again. "Who _are_ you?"

"Kurt. Kurt Hummel."

Chris rolled his eyes and turned back into the bedroom, making his way to his bed, speaking to himself as he did. "That's it! It's official. The pressure's been too much and I've officially cracked. I have actually gone batshit insane."

"What?" Kurt followed him into the dark room. "Why am I in the bathroom of someone called Chris who looks just like me but without my fashion sense?"

Chris laughed humourlessly as he flopped onto his back on the bed. "I don't know. Want to tell me why a fictional character that I play on a TV show has suddenly appeared in my room? Any ideas other than I'm actually going crazy?"

Kurt shrugged and reached over to switch on the bedside light. "You certainly seem crazy to me," he commented drily. "You're telling me you play me on a TV show? What show?"

"A show called Glee. It's about McKinley High's Glee club."

"Riiight. And you play me?"

"I play Kurt Hummel, resident soprano diva and drama queen. A fictional character. I don't know who the hell you are."

"That's me."

"No, it's not. Kurt's not real." Chris said this to reassure himself more than anything else.

"Yes, I am. Look." Kurt walked over and poked Chris hard in the ribs.

"Ow! What the hell was that for?"

"Don't tell me I'm not real! I get enough of people telling me I shouldn't be me during the day without you telling me I don't even exist!"

"Right, fine, sorry," Chris apologised, not very sincerely.

"So… you play me?"

"Yeah."

"Did you audition, or what? Did they advertise the part - 'Anyone want to be Kurt Hummel? The gay teen who's bullied on a daily basis by most people he meets.'"

Chris laughed again, the same bitter not-laugh as before. "Not exactly. I auditioned for Artie. But apparently it's just so obvious that I'm gay that Ryan felt he had to write a whole new part just for me."

"And that was me?"

"That was the role Ryan wrote. He picked the name Kurt because I'd played Kurt in the Sound of Music, and Hummel because I looked like one of those cherub figurines."

Kurt tried to work this out in his head. "Who's Ryan?"

"Creator of the show. Head writer, director. Kind of everything, really."

"And he invented me, based on you?"

"Basically. Even though we're nothing alike."

"I can see that much from your clothes."

"Christ, you are bitchy, aren't you? I mean you've got some funny lines, and the emotional scenes are great to do, but you do dish it out."

"When you've had it as bad as I have, it becomes a reflex."

"I know. I was a male Rachel Berry in high school."

Kurt recoiled slightly.

"You may as well sit down." Chris gestured at the foot of his bed. "I've no idea how long you're gonna be here."

Kurt perched himself daintily on the bedspread before asking a question. "So you're gay as well?"

"Mm-hm." Chris was still lying back on his pillows, still certain that he was hallucinating everything.

"And you're... out?"

"Yeah."

"Do you get any... you know... hassle for it?"

"Not any more, not really. Now that I'm America's little darling baby gay, no-one dares. The Kurtsies would take 'em down."

"Kurtsies?"

"Some of my more obsessive fans. Mainly teenaged fangirls, though there are few over-protective parents as well."

"Oh." Kurt carefully kicked off his boots and swivelled around so he was sitting cross-legged on the bed. "Chris, do you mind if I ask you something... personal?"

Chris's eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch and a wry smile spread across his face. "I'm still not convinced that you aren't a figment of my imagination, so go for it."

"Have you ever... you know?"

"What?"

Kurt blushed as he spoke. "Had sex?"

"Why do you think I'm so popular with mainstream America? I'm the virginal gay boy who doesn't go round having sex with hordes of guys. They can forget the implications of me being gay because I'm not actually having sex with men. Even the homophobes can just look on it as 'Oh, the sweet little boy fancies men. Bless him, he'll grow out of it' and ignore the fact that fancying men means that I actually want to fuck them."

"Oh. How old are you?"

"Twenty."

Kurt raised his eyebrows.

"Scout's honour. I was twenty in May. And I'm the youngest of the twelve. Cory, who's Finn, he's twenty-eight."

"God... How does that even work?"

Chris shrugged.

"So you've never... been with a guy?"

Chris looked over at him. "What's your point?"

"I've never been with a guy, either." Kurt was blushing furiously as he said this, looking at a pillow two feet from Chris's head. "I don't know any other gay guys in Lima. None my age, at least. Rachel's dads don't count."

"And...?"

"I was wondering if you maybe you wanted to..." he trailed off, and looked up at Chris. Chris looked back at him, their identical eyes meeting in the dim light.

"Kurt-"

Kurt started to gabble. "Look, if you're right, and I'm fictional and imaginary, no harm'll be done. It'll just be some random hallucination to you. Even if I'm not, haven't you wanted to know what it's like to be with another person? A guy, I mean, not Brittany. Or whoever plays her. Never mind that. If we do, then it's the safest it could ever be. You know me, and I'm basically you. Physically at least. And if this is a dream on my part, then it's only fair that I get to have sex in my dream because I'm never gonna get any in real life!" Kurt's desperation would have been pitiable if Chris hadn't known exactly how he felt.

Chris was silent for a moment, contemplating, then said, "You get a boyfriend next season."

"What?"

"Next season of the show. You're going to have a boyfriend."

"In that case..." Kurt scrambled for words as he took in the new information. "I want to know what I'm doing. I don't want to be the fumbling virgin any more. And I'm guessing you don't either - you're going to have to do whatever I end up doing with this guy, and it will so much less awkward if it isn't your first time making out, or whatever they have you do."

Chris had sat up by this point.

"And haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to have sex with yourself? Seriously, I've seen serious debates about whether people would or not. I'm here, ready and willing. Please, Chris."

Chris reached forward to gently stroke Kurt's cheek. "But you're so _young_."

"I'm you. Only with better clothes."

Chris smiled. "You're getting bitchy again."

Kurt's voice was breathy with nerves, and higher than normal. "I know. I do that when I'm nervous."

"I know." Chris moved his hand to under Kurt's chin and leaned closer. "This is so bizarre..."

"I know." Kurt leaned forward and their lips met. Softly, gently. Kurt's hand moved to rest on Chris's chest as they kissed. Chris dragged his tongue lightly across Kurt's parted lips, and Kurt opened his mouth to allow his tongue entry.

Chris's hand edged to the hem of Kurt's t-shirt, but stopped as he came into contact with the warm skin beneath it. He pulled back, and looked into Kurt's eyes. In colour, they were identical, but the expression was unlike any his face had ever worn. "Kurt... there's a problem... if we're so similar... who'll top?"

Kurt's gaze immediately flicked aside and he bowed his head in shyness before he looked up at Chris through his thick lashes. "If... if you don't mind... I'd really like to try... topping..."

A relieved smile spread across Chris's face. "We're not so similar after all, then." He reached over to his bedside cabinet and extracted a bottle of lube. Kurt was sure he saw a dildo in there as well, though Chris shut the door so fast, he might have been mistaken.

Kurt was still for a moment as the thought struck him: _this was going to happen_. All the nights he'd lain in bed, dreaming about sex with another guy... finally those dreams were about to come true.

Chris's hands flew to Kurt's waist as he leaned over to kiss the side of Kurt's neck. "My scar..." he whispered as he kissed the faded mark on the fashionista's neck, his movements unhurried.

"I got it when Karofsky shoved me into a locker..." Kurt said, his head thrown back to allow Chris access to a certain sensitive spot by his throat.

"Fuck..." Chris murmured as he slipped his hands under the grey cotton of Kurt's shirt and started to gently pull it upwards. "I only had throat surgery..."

"Doesn't matter," Kurt said, his own hands doing the same to Chris's navy tee. For a moment they struggled with each other's shirts, then smiled at each other as they simultaneously let go and pulled off their own shirts instead.

The sight of Chris's naked torso spurred Kurt on. He supposed he should be worried that he was turned on by his own body, but right now, all that mattered was that there was a willing body in his bed. He launched himself at the older boy, pinning him to the bed. Their mouths met again, this time clashing, tongues keenly exploring mouths as Chris's already bed-ruffled hair was mussed even more by Kurt's eager hands.

Chris could feel Kurt's erection growing against his own now that their bodies were pressed so closely together. This was wrong in so many ways, but with a hot mouth glued to his and Kurt's hips writhing against him, he didn't really care.

Kurt's left hand moved to Chris's nipple, and started to pinch it gently. His right hand made its way to Chris's waist, and grasped hold of the top of Chris's grey sweatpants, tugging them down sharply to reveal Chris's erection straining against the black fabric of his boxers.

Kurt sat back on his heels, and a light gleamed in his eyes as he realised he was about to see a real man naked for the first time (he'd been so careful to keep his eyes on the ground in the locker room back at McKinley). His left hand continued to fondle Chris's nipple, in the way that he knew he liked himself.

"Yes... Kurt..." Chris moaned. Kurt's right hand hovered in the air above Chris's cock for a moment, then he placed his hand on the sizable bulge in Chris's boxers. Chris's hips jerked up into the contact. He groaned at the warmth of another person's hand on his cock.

Kurt smiled as he peeled Chris's boxers down his legs, revealing his cock standing proud from his pale, toned body. Kurt took it into his hands, sliding his left up and down the shaft while his right moved down to caress Chris's balls.

Chris's breath was coming in sharp and heavy pants. "God... Kurt... more!"

Kurt obliged, sliding his forefinger behind Chris's balls to find the puckered entrance. He paused. "I don't know what to... I've never..."

Chris flung his arm out blindly to grab the lube from his bedside cabinet. He quickly squeezed out a generous dollop and manoeuvred himself so that he was holding Kurt's right hand in one of his own, guiding it through the lubricant to his hole. Chris slid Kurt's fingertip into him, trying to hold his hips still while Kurt pushed his finger in further and further.

"You've done this before," Kurt said softly, a hint of a question in his voice.

"So many times..." Chris gasped out a word with each breath. "'Nother finger." Kurt added a second finger, using the lube in Chris's hand to make sure it didn't hurt. Chris's other hand was still wrapped around his, guiding him.

Kurt continued his slow strokes of Chris's cock as he moved his fingers inside him. At a gesture from Chris, he added a third finger, stretching Chris out. He spread his fingers wide as he pushed in as far as possible.

"Move fingers... little higher..." Chris seemed incapable of articulating sentences as Kurt nudged further inside him, trying to reach the supine boy's prostate. He knew he was successful when he heard a high-pitched intake of breath. He continued to work his fingers in and out, determined that he was not going to hurt Chris when they finally, _finally_, got to fucking.

Kurt's own erection had grown too hard to ignore, so he removed his left hand from Chris's cock (ignoring the little whine the action elicited and renewing his efforts with his right hand) and deftly unbuckled his belt. Trying not to let up with his right hand (the noises Chris was making were just too delicious), he shucked his pants and kicked them away. Screw designer labels; he was in alternate universe about to get laid. Given the tightness of the pants, he'd been going commando (because VPL? Ew), so he was now completely naked.

Chris was still writhing on his fingers, muttering things like, "Fuck, yes. More!"

"Are you ready?" Kurt asked, unsure as to what Chris was asking for when he said 'more'.

"Oh god, yes!"

Kurt removed his fingers and looked at Chris, how he was spread out before him. He moved so that he was holding his bodyweight on his forearms, Chris's cock brushing against his stomach. Kurt stroked himself with the remaining lube, and carefully positioned himself between Chris's legs. He pushed in. Just the head, but it was enough to make Chris cry out. In pain or pleasure, Kurt couldn't tell, but Kurt himself was blown away by the feeling. The tight, warm _heat_ enveloping him was like nothing he could have imagined.

"More." Chris uttered the single syllable, his voice thickened by lust and deeper than Kurt had ever heard his voice before.

Kurt pushed further, slowly sliding in, occasionally pausing when he heard a hitch in Chris's breath, then continuing until he was fully sheathed inside his doppelganger. Kurt stilled, feeling himself buried to the hilt and loving every moment of it. The pressure from all sides was just so perfectly _right_.

Chris's head was thrown back in ecstasy, the feeling of being filled so completely just overwhelmed him. For a moment that seemed to last for an eternity, they were still, revelling in the new-found pleasure of each other's bodies.

Then Chris's hips twitched, and Kurt was reminded of everything else that they could do. He slid himself out slightly, then pushed slowly back in. Kurt repeated the motion, pulling a little further back, and moving a little faster in.

"Faster." One word escaped Chris's lips as he exhaled.

Kurt indulged his request and sped up, starting to really thrust into Chris as the actor came apart beneath him. "Oh, fuck, Kurt. Yes!"

The noises Kurt was making as they fucked were scarcely more articulate. He could feel his orgasm beginning to swell within him, so he took hold of Chris's cock and started to jerk. Chris's moans became yells of pleasure as he came closer and closer to the edge.

Kurt's thrusts became wilder and wilder. He pushed into Chris, ramming himself as far as he could, unable to hold off any longer. He came with a loud cry, filling up Chris's ass with his come.

The warmth spurting into him was enough to finally send Chris into the abyss, the shockwaves shivering over him as he lay, limp and lifeless, on his bed.

Kurt slid out of him and slumped down beside him, resting his head over Chris's still wildly pounding heart and draping his arm over Chris's waist.

Their breathing and heart rates slowly returned to normal, their clarity of mind coming with it.

"This was so fucked up," Chris whispered, half to himself.

"Don't care," Kurt replied. "It was more than I ever dreamed I'd get."

Chris chuckled. "If you _had_ dreamed this, I'd have been worried."

"Who knows. Maybe _you're_ dreaming it," Kurt countered.

"If I am, my subconscious most definitely outdid itself."

"Mm..." Kurt murmured, snuggling closer.

Chris wrapped his arm around Kurt's shoulders and went on, "It even included the cuddling."

The two boys drifted off to sleep, looking for all the world like the most innocent, cherubic, virginal pair of Hummel figurines you ever laid eyes on.

* * *

**This is the second time I've ended up writing porn at 4am. I'm sure this isn't healthy.**


	2. Epilogue

When Real Life Meets A Fairy Tale – Epilogue

**In response to all the requests for sequels, this was meant to be a six-paragraph epilogue. It kinda grew. And got a little angsty - it was just my luck that I set it halfway through Grilled Cheesus based on a set pic alone.  
**

* * *

Chris awoke the next morning to the harsh beeping of his alarm clock. He rolled over, opening his sleep-encrusted eyes to see the red figures shining out at him – 4.45 am.

He sat up with a jolt as he recalled the events of the night before and looked rapidly around the room. Nothing was out of place. Everything on his bedside table was in place, nothing had been moved. His bed was scrumpled, but that was only to be expected. There was nothing indicate that a fictional character had crash-landed in his bathroom and then proceeded to have his wicked way with him. Chris smiled at his mind's terminology and clambered out of bed. That had been one heck of a weird dream.

It wasn't even five o'clock yet, so Chris was not particularly aware at this time in the morning. He stumbled into the bathroom and set the shower running to warm up, fumbling around for his razor on the shelf above the sink. He shaved quickly and hopped into the shower (which he really thought should warm up faster, the amount of rent he was paying).

He looked down at himself in the shower, and was puzzled to see matching red marks just above his hip bones. Odd, he thought. He must've bumped into something and not noticed.

He finished his shower and stepped back out into the bathroom. He glanced over at the mirror and stopped dead in his tracks. There, clearly visible in the steamed up glass, were the following words: _thanks chris__ xxx_.

Holy fuck. It had been real. That was what the marks were from. That was why he felt that funny sensation in his behind. He dashed back out into his bedroom; searching every placing a person might be concealed.

To no avail. The only evidence that Kurt had ever been there were the writing in the mirror and the marks on his body.

* * *

Kurt awoke with a start. His head was resting on his arms, creasing his sleeves unforgivably. He must have dozed off during his study period – he was the only person in the library apart from the ancient librarian in the corner, who was thoroughly engrossed with cataloguing the Spanish biography section to pay any attention to him.

Kurt shook himself slightly and stood up. He was slightly woozy, and grabbed hold of the desk to stop himself falling over. That had been a very strange dream – he seemed to have imagined his life was a TV show, and he'd met (and slept with!) the actor who played him. Utterly bizarre. He'd known he had a sizeable ego and self-esteem issues, but that was a new extreme of weird even for him.

He smiled ruefully down at himself, and his expression changed to one of horror; his entire outfit was completely crumpled, as though he'd just left it on the floor overnight before throwing it on in the morning. He gathered up his things and hurried to his locker, throwing in his books and extracting the small iron and mini ironing board he kept stashed in there. He made his way to the girls' bathroom, set up the ironing board and bent to plug in the iron. The muscles in his thighs stretched painfully as his did so, hurting as though he'd spent all of last night straining them. It was almost as if…

Oh my, he thought. That can't have been real… there's no way. Teleportation, alternate universes. That just doesn't happen. Not in real life. But how else could he explain his aching muscles?

He propped up the iron and dashed back to his locker, rummaging in his bag. The last thing he remembered doing was sliding out of Chris' bed (his lovely, warm, snuggly bed) and picking up the bottle of lube, idly wondering was brand it was, because it had clearly worked like a charm. He'd walked into the bathroom and written on the mirror so that Chris would see it when he showered – he hadn't known how long whatever magic had sent him there was likely to last. That was the last thing he remembered before waking in the library.

Kurt caught sight of an unfamiliar bottle in the bottom of his bag. It wasn't hairspray or his usual moisturiser. He pulled it out and inspected it. Sure enough, it was the half empty bottle of lube. The exact same brand Chris had had last night.

Well. That put a new spin on things. Somehow, his entire fantasy appeared to have actually happened. A grin spread across his face. Somehow, he had no idea how, he had had sex last night. And it had been good. No, scratch that, it had been _great_. He had proved that he, Kurt Hummel, was capable of producing sexual pleasure in another human being, something he had been wondering if he would ever get the chance to do.

And he also realised that he wasn't quite as narcissistic as he had first thought – he hadn't imagined that he was interesting enough to be portrayed on a TV show. He actually was!

Kurt had a huge grin on his face as he walked down the hall. His French class started in twenty minutes – he was going to fix himself up then just hang out in the girls' bathroom 'till then.

He hummed happily as he ironed his jacket, idly remembering the events of the previous evening. Evening? He wasn't sure. All he knew or cared was that someone had found him attractive enough to want to sleep with him. An actor. Someone who could, presumably, get any guy he wanted. He pondered briefly why Chris hadn't just gone for the nearest so-inclined guy as soon as he could, but then his mind was taken over with the memories of rolling around in his bed. Kurt was just happy that he was the one who Chris had chosen to be with. He stood with a blissful expression as he recalled thoroughly ravishing the older man, then curling up with him in slumber.

The bell rang, bringing him sharply back to reality. He remembered fighting with his dad that morning over the Friday dinners. He felt slightly guilty, but he knew his dad would come around later. Like he'd said, they could always do it on Thursday. The smile returned to his face as he contemplated his trip on Friday evening. It was going to be brilliant! Singalong Sound of Music was always great, especially when the part where the entire theatre sang Edelweiss with tears in their eyes.

He settled himself down, not even caring when Azimio slumped into the seat next to him with the greeting, "'Sup, faggot?" He was looking forward to telling him all about his plans for the evening, being able to insult him without getting beaten up for it. It was unsurprising that he was nearly fluent in French, given his mother's nationality.

Kurt thought about his life right now. He was going to see Singalong Sound of Music, he had friends like Mercedes and Tina, he was going to display his outstanding French skills, his father's relationship with Carole was going well, he could insult Azimio all he wanted, and (best of all) he had had sex last night. And he had topped. Life was pretty freaking awesome right now.

Kurt turned to the huge jock with a broad smile. "Veux-tu commencer, peut-être?

* * *

Chris drove to work, still trying to wrap his head around what had happened. Somehow, Kurt Hummel had appeared in his bedroom. And he had been perfect. Did that make him screwed up? That the only guy he trusted enough to sleep with was an almost identical reproduction of himself? Probably.

A sudden thought occurred to him as he stopped at the lights. Kurt had been wearing that grey outfit he himself had worn a few days prior. The exact outfit he'd worn the day that Burt had had his heart attack. And Kurt never wore the same outfit twice. Kurt was about to go through the roughest week of his teen years, and he hadn't thought about it. It hadn't even occurred to him; he'd just jumped the poor kid. A wave of guilt washed over him. He knew Kurt's future, and he hadn't thought to mention even the slightest bit of comfort in preparation for what he was going to go through.

He was able to comfort himself a little by reminding himself that what was going to happen was going to happen, nothing he said could have changed that. But still, he felt uneasy as he remembered his willingness to take up Kurt's offer.

That feeling of discomfort remained through the day. It didn't help that they were filming with Mike that day, doing the scene where Burt reprimands Kurt for coming on too strong with his crushes. All it did was remind Chris of how tough Kurt had it already, and how much worse it was going to get.

* * *

A few nights later, Chris was woken by the same muffled flump he'd heard the night Kurt had first appeared. He scrambled out of bed and darted into the bathroom. Kurt was sitting there, leaning against the bath tub, wearing a black polo neck, stone-coloured chinos and a dazed expression. His face was damp; he had clearly been crying.

Wordlessly, Chris slid down beside him.

"Where…? What…?" Kurt uttered.

"It's me, Chris. Your actor, remember?"

Kurt nodded, orientating himself. "Of course. Chris… I…. my dad…" He dissolved into tears.

Chris wrapped his arms around him, letting the younger boy cry into his shoulder. "I know…" he whispered. "I know…"

For a few minutes, he let Kurt cry. He needed an outlet, after all. Someone to cling to while his father was lying comatose in a hospital bed. Someone who wasn't trying to pressure him into some religious faith, trying to persuade him that only God could give him any hope. Chris knew that they'd all meant well, but it must have been horrible for Kurt – seeing everyone else so happy with their beliefs, and not being able to join them.

As Kurt's sobs lessened, Chris reached for the toilet paper and gently mopped his face. As he did so, Kurt gathered himself and began to speak.

"You knew," Kurt stated. "You knew… then… you must have known. What… what was going to happen. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think," Chris answered frankly. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I just didn't think."

"And you know more, don't you? You know what happens to him? You know if he… if lives or dies?"

"I… I don't know, Kurt. I know what happens in the show, but I don't know if the show really follows your life, or if it's the other way round. I don't want to give you false hope."

"Hope? Then he lives? He's alright?"

"In my world, in the show, he's going to be. But in your life, Kurt? I just don't know."

Kurt nodded mutely.

Carefully, Chris stood and held his hand out to Kurt. "Come on. You don't want to spend the night on my bathroom floor, do you? Your pants'll get all dirty, and they're McQueen, aren't they?"

Kurt shook his head, smiling slightly. "Marc Jacobs." He took Chris's hand, hauling himself unsteadily to his feet. "How could someone so unfashionable ever play _me_?" he wondered aloud.

Chris smiled slightly and led Kurt into his room.

"Come and sit on my bed, and we can talk, if you want. Or we could just sit. You need some time just to rest and be yourself for a bit."

Kurt followed Chris through to the bedroom and curled up on his bed, resting his head back against the headboard. Chris sat in a similar position on his left hand side.

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Kurt spoke.

"Why does everyone keep trying to get me to believe in God? Why do they think it would help me at all? Why would I want to believe in this all-powerful being who thought he'd make me gay just for the hell of it?

"I guess because their beliefs have given them hope during tough times, and they think it'll do the same for you."

"But why do they have to shove it on me _all the time_? I try to respect their beliefs, stupid as they are. Why can't they do the same for me?"

"Because they care about you, Kurt. It might not feel like it, but that's why they're doing it. And because theists often don't see that atheism – belief in scientific evidence, and absolute logic – is a belief, just like theirs is. They see you as lost from the fold, and they want to bring you safely 'home'." Chris made air quotes with his fingers as he said this. "It's frustrating. You've just got to try and remember that they wouldn't do it if they didn't care."

"I guess so." Kurt admitted unwillingly. "It's so… eurgh! I just want to be left alone."

"I know just how you feel," Chris agreed, sliding his arms around Kurt's shoulders and pulling him into a sideways hug. "It gets a bit overwhelming when so many people care so much about you. But, Kurt?"

"Mm-hm?" Kurt murmured.

"You should give Mercedes, and her church, a chance. I know what she's saying sounds like total nonsense, but she's your best friend. She's just trying to show you that there are people who care."

"People who'll lynch me if they find out I'm gay. And an Atheist. Either that or try to pray it out of me," Kurt replied bitterly.

"Not if they're truly Christian people. True Christians accept people of any race, any sexuality, any creed, and love and welcome them just the same. Whether they like who you are or not, they'll still love you, and look out for you. And I know you don't want people praying, but they'll still do it. In their eyes, it's the only way they can really help."

Chris paused, pondering certain parts of the episode before he spoke again. "Though if they have any consideration at all, they won't do it right there in front of you."

Chris returned to his original train of thought, "You just have to know that people, whether it's the Glee Club, or the people at Mercedes' church, or anywhere, really, really do believe that it's their belief system is the only true way you could be happy. I know that Atheists get a raw deal, and it can be tough to live with. In the long run, it's easier just to accept their good wishes and move on. You have your beliefs, and unless Atheism becomes the norm, you'll just have to stick it out."

Kurt snuggled into his side. "You're probably right. Still sucks."

Chris smiled wryly. "Don't I know it."

After a few more moments, Kurt broke the silence again.

"Chris… I'm scared… so scared," he said, in such a small voice that it made Chris's heart break to hear it. "If Dad doesn't make it… he's all I have…"

Chris nodded as he pulled Kurt into a tighter hug. He couldn't think of anything to say. He knew from experience with his sister that people trying to make you feel better by explaining just how well they understood never, ever worked. All Chris could do was hold him close and hope that that was some small comfort to the terrified boy.

For Kurt, it was enough. Just knowing that there was someone there, someone who would hold him through it his pain, was enough. He was sensible enough to realise that opportunities for them to meet again were entirely down to chance, but right here, right now, a warm and caring pair of arms holding him close against a living, breathing body was all he needed to feel a little less lost; a little less desolate. A little less alone.

Again the two dozed off together, Kurt feeling safe and protected for the first time since that dreadful moment in French class.

**

* * *

Yes, this turned kinda angsty. Sorry about that! Blame the plot of Grilled Cheesus, and my not knowing what was going to happen to Kurt in the grey moustache t-shirt.**


	3. Post Script To The Epilogue

**Title:** When Real Life Meets A Fairy Tale, Post Script to the Epilogue

**Genre: **Romance, a little angst.

**Warning: **Severe universe bending,

**Spoilers: **Up to 2x06.

**Disclaimer: **This story is entirely fictional. I do not claim to know anything at all about Chris's private life other than what he has stated in interviews. Kurt (much as I might wish otherwise) is not mine.

**Word Count: **~5 850

**Author Notes: **You see, people – begging works. Yes, I know I said this fic was finished… but the idea of more Chris/Kurt interaction was too delicious to ignore. And after seeing Chris and Lea together after the most recent batch of nominations, I just had to include her somehow. I am going to say it again – this fic is now finished. I think.

* * *

Chris slumped down on his couch, blue t-shirt and jeans crumpling as he did so. He was exhausted. Max had been sweetness itself during filming that day, but being bullied was never fun, even if it was only pretend. And having to re-enact it over and over – the horror, the shock, the violated feeling of someone forcing a kiss on you… it had been a tough day.

He dredged up the energy to stumble over to the refrigerator and grab a can of Diet Coke. The caffeine should get him through making dinner, at least.

He finished his second can as the microwave pinged. Okay, so maybe "making dinner" was a bit of a stretch, but Chris felt he was entitled to veg out every once in a while. Especially after a day like today.

He had just settled himself back down on the couch, microwave meal in hand, when he heard a strange flumpy sort of noise. Strange, but familiar. It took several seconds for the memory to permeate his exhausted mind. Kurt!

Meal laid quickly aside, he hastened through to his bedroom and opened the bathroom door. Sure enough, there was Kurt. He was sitting on the floor, shaking his head as though to clear it. His blonde head.

Chris blinked several times to be sure. Blonde? Realisation hit him; Kurt was wearing his Riff Raff costume. Chris had been so caught up in the last couple of days he'd almost forgotten the sheer _fun_ of the Rocky Horror episode the week before.

He smiled a weary smile down at the boy on his bathroom floor, and held out a hand to help him up. "Hey Kurt. How've you been?"

Kurt also smiled as he got up, his gloved hand in Chris's. "Good. Rocky Horror was fabulous! And I know it means I have to wear this truly _hideous_ wig, but Riff Raff's so much fun to play. How about you?"

_Oh shit_, Chris thought, mind in a whirl. _I can't tell him… I just can't. There's no way he could prepare for that. But I can't just let him go to his doom like that. It's too cruel. What can I tell him?_

"Chris." Kurt laid a hand on his arm, his expression growing serious at the mild panic on Chris's face. "What's up?"

Chris plastered his smile back on. "Nothing, Kurt, honestly. I just had a tiring day is all."

It was a testament to Chris's acting ability that Kurt believed him, though the doubtful expression remained on the teen's face.

"So _you're_ doing okay?" Chris asked Kurt, trying to take attention away from himself.

"Yeah. Things are going better at the moment. Mr Schue actually wanted to give me a lead in something! I know it was offensively stereotypical to cast the only gay guy as Frankenfurter," (this was accompanied with an eye roll and a turn of the hand) "But it was nice that he actually thought of me for once."

"That's great." A genuinely happy smile spread across Chris's face. He gestured in the direction of the kitchen. "Would you like something to eat, or drink? I'm halfway through dinner right now, but you're welcome to join me."

"Do you have any diet Coke?" Kurt enquired. "The regular kind is so fattening."

Chris grinned. In some ways they were so similar, in others, so different. "Sure. Come on through."

Kurt followed him to the kitchen, removing his wig as he did so. "I know it's an inherent part of the character, but this thing really is vile." He deposited it on the coffee table as they walked past.

"You're not wrong," Chris laughed as he got out two glasses and poured out the diet Coke. "I spent two hours a day in makeup getting the stupid thing put on." He handed one glass to Kurt and waved in the direction of the couch. "Shall we?"

The two sat next to each other, maybe a foot of space between them. They both sipped from their glasses. The silence was beginning to grow slightly awkward, so Chris asked Kurt, "Do you know_ how_ you get here yet?"

Kurt shook his head, "No idea. Just every now and again I doze off and wake up here." He looked around the apartment, taking in the simple décor and neat furniture. "Where is 'here', anyway?"

"My apartment. LA, California."

"Hollywood?" Kurt's eyes lit up in excitement.

Chris smiled at his delight. "Yeah. I moved here when I first got the job on Glee."

"Wow…" Kurt made his way to the window and look out over the city. "Moved from where?"

The lights of Los Angeles glittered in the darkness.

"Clovis, California. It's this little town near Fresno."

"I've never heard of it," Kurt stated simply, still gazing in awe at the bright lights of the city below.

Chris grinned wryly as he said, "It's a town where nobody has a sense of humour and everyone drives a truck." The number of times he'd told that story to interviewers… he moved to stand behind Kurt, peering over his shoulder. "It's amazing, isn't it?" he said, as he leaned around Kurt to point with his right hand to the far left of the view. "Look over there."

The Hollywood sign blazed brightly in the night's sky. Kurt gaped at the view. "I never thought I'd actually get here…" He leaned back against Chris, who almost jumped with surprise, but managed to restrain himself. Instead, he slipped his arms around Kurt's waist and rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder, Kurt's head resting back against Chris's own shoulder. The two continued to stare out of the window at the hustle and bustle below.

"I've missed you," Kurt whispered, almost inaudibly. "I've missed having someone who cares." He sounded nervous to confess it, as though afraid that Chris would dismiss him, say that he didn't really care at all.

Chris just held him tighter and nuzzled into his neck. "I've missed you. I can be more honest with you than I can with anyone else. I wouldn't change all this, not for the world, but sometimes I just feel like my life isn't my own any more. I go where Fox tell me, I do what the media expect… it's like I'm finally free to do what I want but I'm trapped all the same. I'm writing a film script and I can't tell anyone about it because Fox might not like it, or my publicist doesn't think it's right, or… well… so many reasons. Sometimes I just want to talk to someone about my life, you know?"

"Yeah…" Kurt mused. "Hold on… you're writing a film script?" he sounded impressed, and he turned around in Chris's arms to face him.

"Yeah. An indie comedy. Coming-of-age sort of thing."

Kurt smiled at him. "I'm glad I'm being played by someone so talented." He reached forward and placed a quick kiss on Chris's lips. Chris remained stationary, surprised by the sudden action.

Kurt made to step back. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't've-"

Chris grasped his waist firmly and looked steadily into his eyes. "Don't apologise, Kurt. Not to me. I know better than anyone what it's like to be you." His expression softened. "I need someone like you just as much as you need someone like me." His tone was frank and open as he continued. "I was just surprised… I'm not used to people just…" he trailed off.

"Just what?" Kurt was curious.

"Just…" Chris softly placed his left hand on Kurt's cheek, almost caressing him. "Being so close to me." He wanted to explain further – being so intimate physically, romantically, like a lover, but he couldn't find the words.

Kurt could see that Chris was too reserved to make any further move, so he leaned forward again and pressed his lips to Chris's. Chris responded in kind. He bent his head to the right, his hand on Kurt's waist tightening its grip. Kurt's hands found their way to Chris's shoulders. Kurt opened his mouth to take in Chris's bottom lip, and Chris's tongue slipped gently into Kurt's mouth. They explored each other, taking their time as they stood, entwined together, by the large apartment window.

Inevitably, though, they had to pull back for oxygen. They stood, breathing deeply, foreheads resting together, arms tangled around shoulders, necks and waists.

"Thank you, Kurt," Chris spoke in a low tone. "I needed…" He took a preparatory breath. There was only one word that was right, but it sounded so odd to say it. "I needed… tenderness today."

"Anytime," Kurt whispered back, gazing into the eyes barely two inches from his own.

An odd look crossed over Chris's face as he spoke again. "This is so strange. This shouldn't be right." But he could not bring himself to drag his face away from Kurt's.

"I don't care. It is. Somehow, it just is," Kurt replied, bringing his hand up to Chris's face. He rested his palm against Chris's cheek. He looked back into the bright pools of colour that were Chris's eyes. "Our eyes… they're just the same."

"That's hardly a surprise." Chris said in an amused tone, then he blinked several times. He had never been able to figure out what colour his eyes really were – they weren't blue, or green, or grey, but a curious mix of the three.

"Glasz," Kurt whispered.

"What?" Chris pulled back slightly, just enough to separate their faces. He was still close enough to feel Kurt's breath on his face, just the soft motion of air against his skin.

"Our eyes. They're glasz. Artists first used it describe the Breton sea. It's a greeny-bluey-grey."

Chris smiled. "You would know that." There was a small amount of teasing in his voice. "Some designer use it?"

Kurt nodded and smiled in response.

Suddenly, the mood was broken somewhat as a loud beeping started to emanate from the direction of the kitchen. The pair both jumped, though Chris laughed almost immediately. "I set the timer to go off in case I fell asleep eating dinner," he explained, making his way over to the noisy object and turning it off.

Kurt resumed his original seat on the couch as Chris returned. Chris joined him, this time sitting close enough that their thighs just touched as they shuffled into a comfortable position. "You want to watch a movie, or something?" Chris offered.

Kurt looked uncharacteristically nervous as he responded, "There's something I kinda wanted to ask you… I don't know what you'll think…"

Chris answered with a quizzical, and yet still somehow amused, expression, "The first time we met you propositioned me. I don't think there's much you could suggest that would shock me."

Kurt coloured at the memory. "Well, yes, I, um, well-"

Chris cut him off with a finger over his lips. "Don't worry, I enjoyed it. Very much," he added with a grin. "What was it you wanted to ask?"

"Would you sing with me?" Kurt's question surprised him; he'd been expecting something far more shocking. Before he could respond, however, Kurt started to explain, "You're the only person with a voice that matches mine, that's as good as mine. And I know that you probably want to preserve your voice for the show or something like that, but I thought I'd ask. Just in case." Kurt had an appealing look on his face as he finished speaking.

Chris honestly thought that both Lea's and Amber's voices were better than his, and probably some of the other cast members as well, but he was not about to burst Kurt's bubble like that. "Of course I'll sing with you. I break into song all hours of the day and night, just ask Amber." He laughed to himself at Amber's comments about his singing Broadway classics at six in the morning.

Kurt did his usual I-find-this-mildly-amusing-but-not-really-getting-it-so-I'll-laugh-and-you'll-be-satisfied-and-we'll-just-move-on-from-the awkward-moment laugh.

"Amber plays Mer-… you know what, never mind." Some things were too long-winded to explain in detail. "You got any songs in mind?"

"Do you know 'I Know Him So Well'? From Chess?" Kurt suggested.

Chris nodded. "Very well – Idina sang it with the British Elphaba in London a few years back; I've seen the clips on Youtube."

Kurt blinked. "Who?"

"Idina Menzel. She was the first Broadway Elphaba. She was in this universe, at least." Okay, so maybe sometimes he did go into detail unnecessarily, but this is Wicked we're talking about. "But she also played Shelby on Glee, so I met her then." Chris was a little worried that the space-time continuum might implode if they went into too much depth here – at the very least, the pair of them would get major brain-ache. He'd often wondered why Kurt and Rachel hadn't recognised Shelby and April. When it was just a TV show, it was easy enough to explain away, but with an actual person from that universe? Too confusing for the end of a tiring day.

"Shelby Corcoran? Rachel's mother? She was Broadway's Elphaba?" Kurt brought him out of his internal musings. Each of Kurt's questions was louder than the last, and higher pitched as well.

Chris nodded, biting his lip nervously as he did so, hoping that Kurt was not about to pitch a fit that he had worked with Idina.

Kurt sat back in his chair with a sulky expression. "That is so not fair," he muttered, irritated.

"Cheer up," Chris rubbed his shoulder bracingly. "We might be getting Mary Poppins to play your grandmother!"

The smile crept back onto Kurt's face. "Well, I suppose that's quite good too," he acknowledged.

"You wanted to sing 'I Know Him So Well'," Chris reminded Kurt.

"Yes," Kurt beamed back at him.

"Which part did you want? I don't mind." Chris was happy with either part – after all, their voices were the same. They were both equally good for both parts.

"Can I sing the second part? I just love the lead harmony part later on!" Kurt's eyes sparkled as he discussed the song.

"Sure." Chris smiled at Kurt's joy. He sat up, cleared his throat, and began to sing.

"_Nothing is so good it lasts eternally,_

_Perfect situations must go wrong._

_But this has never yet prevented me_

_Wanting far too much for far too long._

_Looking back I could have played it differently:_

_Won a few more moments, who can tell?_

_But it took time to understand the man_

_Now at least I know I know him well._

"_Wasn't it good_?" Chris held the note as Kurt came in for the harmony part.

Kurt's voice was pure and clear as he joined Chris, "_Oh so good_."

"_Wasn't he fine_?" Chris continued.

"_Oh so fine_," Kurt echoed.

"_Isn't it madness_," Chris sang.

The two came together in perfect harmony for the joint line, "_He can't be mine_?"

Chris sang on:

"_But in the end he needs_

_A little bit more than me -_

_More security_."

"_He needs his fantasy_

_And freedom_," Kurt managed to put all the heartbreak and passion of someone letting the love of their life go into just two lines.

"_I know him so well_." Chris's voice just swelled out into the room. As Kurt started the verse, they both pondered how strangely apt they were in the situation.

"_No one in your life is with you constantly_

_No one is completely on your side_

_And though I move my world to be with him_

_Still the gap between us is too wide_."

Now Kurt took the lead for the central section:

"_Looking back I could_

_Have played it_

_Differently_.

Chris fell in just behind with his lines:

"_Looking back I could_

_Have played things_

_Some other way_."

These lines again were strangely appropriate for Kurt, Chris thought – though for his relationship with Finn, this time.

"_Learned about the man_

_Before I fell_," Kurt sang.

Chris sang over the last held note of 'fell':

"_I was just a little_

_Careless maybe_."

Kurt took the lead again with:

"_But I was_

_Ever so much_

_Younger then_"

Chris echoed him:

"_I was so much younger then…_"

The two joined together for the forceful lines, "_Now at least, I know I know him well_," Chris taking the top part, Kurt the melody.

The two boys, identical in looks, but so different in personality, sang their hearts out. Their voices swooped and soared through the melodies and harmonies, effortlessly switching between them. Their eyes remained locked upon each other the whole time, rapturous expressions on both their faces as they revelled in how _easy_ this was.

They came together one last time for the tender final line, "_I know him so well_". They both had people about whom they had been singing – past loves, former crushes – but this moment was about them and them alone. They synchronised perfectly for the final diminuendo.

Kurt had tears in his eyes as they ended the note, but still he smiled. After a moment's silence in which they regained their breath, Kurt spoke.

"That was wonderful… thank you."

Chris grinned. "Brings a whole new meaning to the phrase 'vocal masturbation'."

Kurt laughed that awkward, half-amused laugh that Chris had spent so long perfecting. "True… really though, thank you. It was just… perfect, singing with you." He leaned forward to peck Chris on the lips. Chris hesitated for just a fraction of a second before he reciprocated.

Kurt pulled back, a slightly hurt, slightly irritated look on his face.

"Chris… why do I always have to be the one to make the first move? Don't you like me?"

Chris sighed internally. He didn't want to have to explain why he was so unwilling to take risks kissing Kurt.

"I like you, Kurt, I really do. I just… I feel like a predator, Kurt, if I make the first move. You're only sixteen."

"I was seventeen in August!" the boy said indignantly.

"Still, Kurt… I'm that much older than you, and… I don't want you to feel pressured. I never want to be the one to do that to you."

Kurt looked puzzled at Chris's phrasing. "What do you… who…?"

Chris hastily tried to cover his slip, "I just mean that, I don't want you to feel forced."

"I've been throwing myself at you since we met, Chris. Trust me, I'm not being forced."

Chris responded in a quiet voice, "It's still so strange… you look just like me… and I know you so well… but you're another person." He wasn't trying to make a point – he was simply voicing his thoughts aloud. "I don't want to take advantage."

"You won't. You don't need to worry about taking advantage – I'm perfectly sober, I know what I'm doing." Kurt lowered his voice to a silky tone. "And what I want to _do_…" He emphasised the final word, stroking his fingertips down Chris's arm. Kurt leaned forward to whisper into the twenty-year-old's ear, "… is _you_."

This time when their eyes met, Chris's were hazy with lust. He could resist no longer. He almost seemed to pounce, bringing his lips to Kurt's and grasping his waist. They kissed in a passionate embrace. The momentum from Chris's movement brought the two of them to a horizontal position, however, Kurt lying back on the couch with his legs stretched in front of him. Chris was straddling Kurt, his knees either side of Kurt's hips. He was kneeling low, bent over, his chest barely an inch from Kurt's.

Even then, Chris hesitated, just for a moment, pulling up to ask, "You're sure?"

Kurt almost groaned with the irritation of pent up lust. "For fuck's sake, _yes_."

A smile that was almost a smirk slipped onto Chris's face as he leaned back down, placing heated kisses against Kurt's neck. His hands moved to Kurt's shoulders and slipped the Riff Raff jacket off as far as he could with Kurt's back pressed into the couch as it was.

Kurt took hold of Chris's face in his hands and pulled him in once more in a fierce kiss. Lips met, tongues tangled, and hands tousled through hair. Kurt sat back up as they kissed, pulling Chris up with him as his tongue explored the inside of Chris's mouth.

The shift in position meant that Chris was now sitting almost on top of the growing hardness in Kurt's pants. It also meant that Chris was bending down to kiss Kurt, head tilted to the side to give the best access to Kurt's mouth, which was a source of unmitigated pleasure at that particular moment in time.

One arm at a time, Kurt slipped off his jacket completely. A stray limb (most likely one of Chris's legs) knocked it to the floor.

Chris rocked his hips forward and down, causing wonderful friction inside Kurt's skinny jeans. He ground his groin against Kurt's abs, and Kurt squirmed against him happily as his hands found their way to the base of Chris's top. His fingertips grasped the soft cotton fabric.

"Do it," Chris whispered hastily, in a break oxygen break before they resumed the jumbled mess of tongue and lips and teeth.

Kurt slid the shirt up over the graceful planes of Chris's pale chest, parting their lips for a moment so that the shirt could be completely removed and flung away.

Chris moved to unbutton Kurt's shirt, but Kurt had other ideas. He sat right up and placed his hands on either side of Chris's bare chest, pushing him down gently but firmly (lips still thoroughly entangled all the while) so that he was lying beneath him. Chris winced slightly as his shoulder hit the armrest; he still had some rather nasty bruises from Max shoulder-checking him into lockers.

Kurt noticed the fleeting expression of pain. He sat up quickly (he had been wriggling down between Chris's legs with the intention of placing a line of kisses from throat to waistband). "Did I hurt you?"

"Just a bruise." Chris brushed his concern aside, and moved to wrap his legs around Kurt's, trying to distract him. He slipped his hands down to Kurt's ass. They'd not been there before, and were rather enjoying the experience.

Kurt would not be put off, however, and leaned to the side to peer at Chris's back.

"How did you do this?" he asked curiously, looking at the large and colourful bruise across Chris's shoulder blade.

"Tripped over a chair on set. Fell backwards onto the piano." Chris's sentences were short and stilted as he lied, pressing kisses to Kurt's throat. Kurt was happy to let it go at that, and his hands returned to Chris's torso. He ran his hands over Chris's pecs, his abs – revelling in the feel of another's body beneath his fingertips.

Chris's hands felt Kurt's ass through the tight fitting skinny jeans. He grasped, squeezed, kneaded and massaged the younger boy, and Kurt squirmed back into his touch. Chris revelled in being able to touch, being able to feel another person, another boy. A boy who _wanted _him. Not because he was famous, or he thought he was 'kinda cute', but because they felt right together.

For Kurt's part, he couldn't have been happier. Yes, it was bizarre. In some respects it was like making out with an extremely flexible mirror. But Chris was far more than that – he was someone who cared for him, seemingly unconditionally. And his hands were doing rather wonderful things to his behind…

Things were beginning to get heated as Kurt's shirt was thrown aside and Chris mouthed his way across his chest to one of his nipples.

They were, however unfortunately, interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. The two separated rapidly, exchanging rabbit-in-the-headlights looks.

"Chris?" It was a girl's voice, and she sounded worried.

"Lea!" Chris exclaimed quietly.

Simultaneously, Kurt cried, "Rachel!" He had a petrified expression. She was a boner-killer if he'd ever seen one.

"No, no, it's not, it's Lea, she plays her. But she can't see you… you've got to hide. Bedroom!" Chris said, in a state of mild panic, as he fumbled for his t-shirt and yanked it back over his head.

Kurt nodded and dashed to through the doorway to the bedroom, grabbing his shirt and jacket on the way. Somehow, he had managed to retain the fingerless gloves, which still covered his palms. They would definitely have been the next thing to go. He pushed the door just to behind himso he could hear what was going on.

Lea's voice still came from the other hallway. "Chris? Are you okay? I know you had a rough day today because of the whole k-"

Chris rushed to the door and flung it open hurriedly. He was immediately engulfed in the arms of the tiny brunette.

"Lea!" He hugged her.

"Hey Chris!" She hugged him back enthusiastically. She looked at him enquiringly. "What took you so long to get the door?"

"I was just..." Chris glanced wildly around the room. "I was just sorting my DVDs."

"Okaaay." Lea clearly did not believe him. "Are you sure you're alright? That was a hell of a scene you did today, especially since-"

"I'm fine, Lea, honestly." Chris cut her off loudly. "Look, it's really sweet of you to come over and check on me, but I-"

He stopped as Lea scooped up Kurt's Riff Raff wig from the coffee table. She looked at him with a puzzled expression. She had been looking around the room for evidence of a crying jag or a sudden craving for ice cream, and was somewhat surprised to see the costume piece.

"Chris, what-" She broke off as she spotted the remnants of Chris and Kurt's 'date'.

"Chris, do you have a guy in here?" Lea asked, an excited grin spreading over her face. She mimed towards the front door as she stage whispered, "I can just go." Her face was alight at the idea that Chris might be hiding a boyfriend. This was news!

Chris did his best not to lie, "Lea, I can honestly tell you that no guy other than myself has entered my apartment since I got back."

Kurt rolled his eyes from his vantage point in the bedroom. That was skirting the truth if he'd ever seen it.

"Really?" Lea asked suspiciously, the grin turning to a knowing smirk as she did so. "Then why is your hair all mussed, and why are there two glasses out? And why is the throw rug on your couch so crumpled?" The smile changed again to an almost motherly expression as Chris fumbled for an explanation. "You don't have to lie to me, Chris. But you do have to let me know how it goes!"

She bounced up onto her tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek, and let herself out.

Chris took a deep breath. He would have some explaining to do tomorrow. He turned to the bedroom door and called, "Hey, Kurt. She's gone."

Kurt stepped out with a bemused expression. "She's like Rachel, only less so. It's like someone's taken out all the worst bits of her personality and thrown them away."

"Yeah, Lea's lovely. She's really sweet."

A thought had occurred to Kurt, and his expression had turned serious while Chris was talking. He folded his arms across his chest protectively as he asked, "What happens to me?"

"What?" Chris was a little muddled by the non-sequitur.

"What happens to me? That you were filming today? That was so stressful for you?" Kurt looked scared. Lea has been so concerned about how Chris was doing… "Because if it was that hard for you to act it, just think how bad it's going to be for it to actually _happen_ to me."

Chris couldn't do it. He just couldn't. Telling Kurt that he was going to be sexually assaulted by a jock so closeted he was practically having tea with Mr Tumnus? It was too cruel. Perhaps it was kinder to let him have these last few days in ignorant bliss. He would have to put him off somehow.

Chris made a noise halfway between a groan and sigh. "I can't tell you Kurt. It's in your future, there's like, time laws and things."

Kurt's voice had a frustrated tone as he responded. "Chris, I'm supposedly a fictional character who's fallen through some wormhole into the real universe. Normal rules don't apply and I want to know what shitty thing's going to happen to me next!"

Chris groaned into his hands and shook his head violently. He tried to remember how he had felt when he had read the script – the nervous anticipation, the worry, the dread. Now multiply that by a thousand. That's what Kurt would feel if he told him.

Kurt exclaimed, "This isn't fair! Why should you get to live my life a week ahead of me? Why should I always be the last to know what's happening?"

Chris spoke through his hands, "Alright, fine." He sounded bitter as he said, "Your bullying gets worse, is all."

"That's it? 'Your bullying gets worse'," Kurt imitated. "That's all you can tell me? Do I get hurt?"

Chris looked up at him, the look on his face almost anguished, "Not… physically… so much," he mumbled.

"That bruise on your shoulder… that was from filming, wasn't it?"

"Yeah… short sharp meeting with a locker," Chris explained, unwillingly.

"Or ten!" Kurt exclaimed. "You're black and blue!"

"It's not… it's not as bad as it looks. I just had to kinda throw myself, so it's probably worse for me than you."

Kurt looked at him scornfully, not taken in. "If you got that bruised doing it to yourself, how bad do think it'll be when someone is actually trying to hurt me?"

He sighed and slumped down on the couch. "Why is it that whenever anything good happens, something comes along just to make everything suck again?"

"It won't be like that forever." Chris walked over and laid a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "I know how much things suck right now. Believe me, I really have been there. But there's a whole world out there of people who'll love you just the way you are. You've just got to get out there and find them."

"You were bullied?" Kurt picked up on the first part of Chris's little speech.

"Every day. Even now I flinch if a big guy gets near me without warning. But you've got to believe me, Kurt – it does get better." He spoke with such honest sincerity that Kurt wanted to believe him, he really did.

He nodded, his face still utterly woebegone and miserable. The Riff Raff makeup only accentuated his weary expression. Chris couldn't help it – he sat down on his left and side and engulfed the boy in a bear hug. Kurt curled into him, resting his head on the actor's shoulder. He tucked his legs up and over Chris's, and in so doing, moved his head to rest on Chris's chest. He was almost sitting his lap, but neither minded the position. It felt safe, somehow.

After a long moment in which Chris just held him close, as though he would never let him go, Kurt asked, in a small voice, "Is it Finn?"

"Is what Finn?" Chris asked, confused.

"Who pushes me into the locker."

"No!" Chris held Kurt away from him slightly so that he could look into his eyes. "Why would you ask that?" he asked, his voice filled with worry.

"He doesn't like me. He never has, not really." Kurt explained his reasoning. "And he gets violent when he loses his temper. And after the whole thing with Sam and the duet… if he loses it… if I push him too far…"

"No!" Chris repeated firmly. "Finn doesn't…" He tried to explain Finn's thoughts – he and Cory had had several in depth discussions about their characters' behaviour to each other. "He doesn't understand you, or why you act like you do. He can't understand your situation. But he doesn't dislike you, far from it. He admires that you don't care about what people think, and I think he might even be a bit jealous of you for that. But he can't help _himself _worrying about what people think, and it kind of overrides everything else."

"Oh… okay." Kurt took a breath, and asked, looking down. "Puck, then? Does he get back from juvie all full of steroids and-"

"No, Kurt." Chris interrupted his violently imaginative stream of thought. "It's none of the Glee club. They are _all_ your friends."

Kurt looked at him in disbelief.

Chris went on, "Really, Puck actually kinda likes you now. You were there the whole way through the baby fiasco - you didn't take anyone's side against him. That's more than most of McKinley did. Heck, it's more than most of the club did."

Kurt nodded, looking less melancholy.

"Just remember, Kurt, whatever happens, you do have friends at McKinley. Friends who will stand up for you, even if you don't ask them to. And you've got me, even if you can't always get here."

Kurt nodded again, then curled back into Chris's chest. He was in too much of an emotional whirl to do anything else. Chris wrapped his arms back around him, and the two stayed like that until they fell asleep, dozing off together into much needed, restful slumber.

When Chris awoke the next morning, Kurt had vanished. His wig alone remained to indicate that the events of the previous night had not been the product of exhaustion, over-imagination and too much diet Coke.

Chris didn't know why he cared so much. The fact that Lea had also seen the wig proved that that at least of what was happening was real, but for all he knew, he had imagined her as well. Perhaps his original supposition that he had completely lost his mind was correct after all.

All he knew was that he wanted to be there for the boy. He knew better than anyone else what a hellish existence Kurt had, but perhaps, just by being a listening ear and warm body to curl up against, he might do the kid some good. He certainly hoped so. And just maybe, Kurt would be good for him as well.

If only they could figure out how this whole crazy thing was happening, then they might have had a chance. As it was, they just had to cling on to whatever opportunities they were granted in this messed up world, and be happy with whatever time together they could get. At the end of the day, that was all anyone could do in a relationship. Chris and Kurt's just depended a whole lot more on the whimsy of some unknown higher power.

_Still_, Chris thought as he got dressed for the day ahead, _it could be worse. It could've been Sue who fell through the gap in the universe._

With that amusing thought still in his head, he made his way to work, images of Sue Sylvester taking over full charge of dance rehearsals playing through his mind.

* * *

**There you have it, folks! Yes, I realise that this was longer than the previous two parts combined. Shh.**

**To find the clip of "I Know Him So Well" that Chris mentioned, go to Youtube, search "I Know Him So Well Kerry Ellis", and pick the one by marcelofacamargo (that's the highest quality one) – Chris sings Idina's part, Kurt sing Kerry's.**

**Random thing for your amusement (Cracked fans amongst you will recognise this) – I recently watched a webcomic where something very similar to this fic actually happened. It was described thus: "You slept with your exact duplicate! The clone bone! Sixty sixing! Doppel gang bang! Mirrorbation! The big autoerotic enchilada! Twins with benefits!" – it made me laugh so I thought I'd share.**

**What did you think of this installment? Opinions, loves, hates, concrit – I'm all ears. This is by far the most bizarre thing I've ever written (and that includes that fic with the tutu), so I'd love to get feedback on how I could improve it.**


	4. Part The Fourth

**Title:** When Real Life Meets A Fairy Tale: Part The Fourth

_Because 'Addendum to the Post Script to the Epilogue' was just too damn long._

**Rating: ** NC17

**Characters:** Chris, Kurt, Lea, Mr Schue, Karofsky, the boys of ND

**Warning:** Severe universe bending, RPF

**Spoilers:** Up to S2, E07 (Furt)

**Disclaimer:** This fic is entirely the result of my own overactive imagination. I do not claim to know anything about the cast's private lives other than what has been stated in interviews.

**Author Notes: **This may have been an excuse to watch NBK again…

**_All thoughts are in italics_.**

**I apologise for any Britishisms – if you point them out to me, I'll correct them (except for spellings, those will remain British, I'm afraid).**

**And an interesting fact – a standard Qwerty keyboard is designed in such a way that the word 'Karofsky' is a total bitch to type. I've got the point where I just mash at the letters and let AutoCorrect figure it out.**

**As chapters go, this is awfully long for me, so I'm really hoping that people like it! *crosses fingers*  
**

* * *

Lea cornered him on set the next morning, as the cast was leaving the room for a break in their first rehearsal for the Forget You dance. She dragged him into one of the myriad random rooms on set with her eyes sparkling.

"Spill!"

"What do you mean?" Chris asked, hoping to avoid answering for as long as possible. His heart began to beat slightly faster and he glanced nervously over Lea's shoulder towards the door.

Lea tilted her head to the right and looked at him with a 'don't play dumb' look on her face. "Chris, when I arrived at your apartment last night you so obviously had a guy in there! So spill!" She had an encouraging smile on her face as she spoke, half laughing at his unwillingness to go into detail.

"I… um… it was…" Chris's mind frantically stumbled through half-thought-out explanations. "I didn't… I mean, I don't… and things just…"

Lea laid a reassuring hand on his arm. "It's okay, Chris, if you have a boyfriend. You don't _have _to tell people every little bit of your personal life. But it would be nice if you told _us_. We're family, aren't we?" she said with a gentle smile.

Chris just bit his lip. He wanted to tell her. She was one of his closest friends, and he didn't like hiding things from her. But if he did tell her, she would think he was absolutely crazy.

Seeing his consternation, Lea decided to go through things step by step.

"Do you _want_ to tell me?" she asked, looking at him searchingly. "It's okay if you don't want to."

Chris nodded.

"Have you been seeing someone?"

"Sort of. We don't get to decide… not often." Chris's disjointed thoughts came tumbling out of his mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"We don't have a lot of say in when we see each other."

"You mean with filming and things?"

"Sort of… he kinda just turns up."

"Just turns u-" Lea's eyes widened and a horrified expression appeared on her face. "Has someone been forcing you t-"

"No!" Chris exclaimed. "Nothing like that! It's completely mutual. He just can't get here often, and he never knows in advance when he will."

Lea's expression turned to one of concern. "And are you happy with him?"

"I… yes." A smile started to spread across Chris's face as he thought of the time he spent with Kurt. "I get him, you know? And he's… he's there for me, and I'm there for him. And I don't have to worry about being this public figure with him, you know? He just… he likes me for who I am."

Lea's smile was a mix of relief and pure happiness. "I'm so happy for you!" she half-squealed as she grabbed him in a mini bear hug.

"Oof!" was Chris's response. Lea's mini bear hugs are a force to be reckoned with, after all.

As she released him, she looked back up at his face. "Can I meet him?"

"No!"

She looked at him, puzzled at his outburst.

"He can't meet anyone. He's…" Chris fumbled for an explanation. "He's really shy, and you guys are really… erm… effusive."

Lea nodded slowly. "Okay… but-"

Luckily for Chris, Lea was interrupted by the sound of the rest of the cast stampeding back to the rehearsal room. She looked at him with a brief worried glance, patted his arm, and the two went back to dance rehearsals.

* * *

Kurt strode into school the next day with new found confidence. Yes, he was a bit apprehensive about the increased amount of bullying of which Chris had told him, but now he truly believed that one day, things would get better. He just had to live through the rough times to make it to the good times. There was also the fact that he was dressed to kill as he and Tina made their way through the corridors of McKinley. With his dark grey sweater train and his truly fantastic bow tie of clockwork awesomeness, he was ready to take on whatever came his way.

Unfortunately, what was coming his way was coming in the form of Dave Karofsky. Kurt didn't notice him until he found himself bouncing off the lockers.

As Tina asked if he was okay, Kurt thought of Chris. He guessed that this was just the start of the new wave of bullying. He thought of how Chris had dealt with it all the way through high school, and then gone on to have it done to him all over again at work. He thought of how Chris had come out stronger, greater, better than all the bullies. One day, that would be him.

"Yeah… fine," he answered.

When they arrived in Glee Kurt took his usual seat beside Mercedes. Puck's violent gesture in Artie's direction wasn't a good omen in terms of who might be joining Karofsky in bullying him, but perhaps Chris was right. Perhaps Puck really did care about the Glee kids. Why else would he stick around now that Quinn was utterly disinterested?

As Mr Schue directed him to the boys' team, Kurt just silently repeated to himself like a mantra, _They are your friends. They will stick up for you… They are your friends, they will stick up for you… you had better be right about this, Chris_.

Kurt suddenly noticed Puck's new ear piercings as they started to discuss mashup ideas. One in each ear. Since everyone knew that left ear meant straight and right ear meant gay, did both ears mean bisexual? Hm… something for him to Google later.

It was later that same day that Karofsky found him again, shoving him into the locker with all the force of a young bull elephant.

"What is your problem?" Kurt yelled after him. It was better to face these things head on, after all. He wasn't about to let himself be pushed around by the Karofskys of the world.

The large bully seemed to grow as he turned to face Kurt and approached him. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit_ was all that went through Kurt's mind. _Bad idea, run away, run away_. Ignoring this, Kurt stood his ground and hoisted into place his dismissive 'Ice Queen' demeanour as Karofsky loomed over him angrily.

"You're talking back to me? You wanna piece of The Fury?"

"The Fury?" Kurt tried to get as much condescension as he could into those two words.

"It's what I named my fist."

_What is it with jocks and naming their body parts?_ Kurt thought as he snapped back. "Well, with that level of creativity you could easily become assistant manager at a rendering plant." _If you can't beat them with brawn, baffle them with brains_.

"I don't know what that is, but if I find out it's bad, the Fury's gonna find you."

This somewhat unintimidating speech (_really, who doesn't know what a rendering plant is?)_ was made rather more daunting when Karofsky's hands were planted on his chest and Kurt was shoved yet again into the lockers.

_Is this what my life is going to be from now on? Being manhandled by brutish idiots because I'm not big enough to stand up to them physically? No, think positive. You will live through it, and you be stronger because of it. You _will_ beat them in the end._

As Kurt was thinking through this motivational speech, Mr Schuester approached him. He'd seen the way Kurt had been looking so uneasily after Karofsky, and it had finally clicked that perhaps something not quite right was happening here.

Once Kurt was settled in his desk chair, Mr Schuester proffered a cup of water across the desk. "Is there anything that I can do?"

_You can take a stand. You can make Figgins see what's happening in this school. You can help make this placer safer for everyone who's in it. You can do your _job_ and teach people that bullying is not okay._

Even as he thought it, Kurt knew it was no use. Figgins wouldn't listen to Schue, no matter what he did. The poor guy had enough trouble trying to keep their disintegrating Glee Club going with all of the drama going on. He didn't have the time or the ability to try to try and effect a major policy change at McKinley High. Kurt would have to soldier on alone until he found one of places of which Chris had spoken, a place where people knew that you couldn't hurt people just to satisfy a passing whim.

Still, he couldn't resist the urge to give Mr Schuester a look that blatantly said 'You even have to ask what you could, or should, be doing?" before he responded, "No. This is my hill to climb alone."

"Can I be honest?" Mr Schue asked him.

_No, I want you to lie to me,_ Kurt thought with an internal eye roll.

"I think it's getting to you."

Kurt resisted the urge to roll his eyes again and say 'You think?'

"Usually this stuff rolls right off your back, but lately you've been belligerent, angry, pushing people away…"

_That's because someone finally told me that I didn't deserve all this crap I'm going through. I finally realised that it isn't just 'the way things are' – there are places that are different. I _shouldn't _have to deal with this stuff. Because I got sick of always being the school punching bag._

"Can I be honest with you?" Kurt turned the question back onto Mr Schuester. "You, like everyone else at this school, are too quick to let homophobia slide." _Like everyone else in the town. Hell, like everyone else in this state, it feels like sometimes. _"And your lesson plans are boring and repetitive. Boys versus girls? That doesn't challenge any of us."

"You mean because I didn't let you join the girls like you wanted?"

_You mean because you didn't let me join the group that I'm not half afraid might decide to beat me up at any moment? You just don't get it, and you never will._

"To answer your question, yes. I'm unhappy. And yes, being the only out gay kid at this school gets me down. But most of all, I'm not challenged in the least here."

As he stalked from the room, Kurt thought, _It should not have taken meeting Chris for me to realise this. I guess we all just need someone to be on our side every once in a while._

* * *

As the group gathered for the next Glee club meeting, Kurt was greeted with a pleasant surprise in the form of Mr Schuester's new lesson plan – the boys had to sing a traditionally female song, and the girls something a bit more rock-y.

_Finally, he's taken on board something I've said. I thought the day would never come! It's only been a year since I wanted to sing Defying Gravity…_

Kurt's plans for the boys' mashup ended up covering six drawing boards. He had to pare them down, brutally, to the bare essentials to show the rest of the team. Still, as he stood in front of them, boards prepared, stick in hand, Kurt had to remind himself of Chris's words. _They are your friends._

The meeting did not start well. None of the others seemed to grasp that he, with an almost entirely female friendship group, was far and away the best person to organise this number.

Artie's comment about the dress pushed him just that bit too far.

"Who said anything about a gown?"

_Way to be a supportive friend, Artie. No wonder Tina got sick of you always putting her down._

Puck joined in, "Dude, why don't you make yourself useful and go put some rat poison in them old folks jello, or visit the Garglers?"

_Of course, the Puckish influence. That explains Artie._

"The Warblers," Kurt corrected, thinking of the short paragraph he'd read so many times he knew it by heart.

_The Warblers are Dalton Academy's prize-winning acapella show choir. With thrice-weekly practices, it is one of the more intense after-school programmes offered at Dalton, but this doesn't stop it from being the most popular!_

Kurt had already Googled the group under the guise of 'competitive research', and had fallen in love with the place.

"Whatever. See what they're up to, and you can wear all the feathers you want. You'll blend right in."

_You don't want me here? Fine. I'll go somewhere where I might be appreciated for once._

"Fine," he said curtly, and he stalked once again from the room. He missed the worried look Mike and Finn exchanged, and the way the two (and Sam) turned to Puck afterwards.

"Dude, you didn't have to be such a douche to him," Finn said, annoyed.

"Yeah, the guy's actually got some neat ideas. Better than anything we've come up with," was Sam's contribution.

"Seriously dude, lay off of him." Mike didn't say much, but anyone could see that Mike meant what he said.

"Woah, guys!" Puck put his hands up in front of himself in mock defense. "Why're you all so defensive about Kurt? I wasn't any worse to him than you guys ever were."

"'Cause Karofsky's being getting worse and he kinda needs friends right now," Finn explained.

"Coming from the guy who used to help throw him in dumpsters! Dude, I'm not gonna change who I am just to make Kurt feel better."

"Just go easy on him, will you?" Mike asked.

"Whatever, dudes." Puck stood up and moved to leave. "Big-lips is right, we don't have any better ideas. There's no point carrying on with this 'til Kurt gets back from the Gabblers with some juice. Come on, Artie." With which final remark, he followed in Kurt's footsteps, wheeling the bespectacled boy from the room.

* * *

Kurt gazed in awe around the airy atrium. The noise around him was loud, but not harsh or violent in the way such a crowd would have been at McKinley. No-one pushed into him, or even pushed past him. They moved around him like a well-oiled machine.

He picked a reasonably unintimidating-looking guy, with slicked back curly hair, and said, "Excuse me, um…" The boy turned around. _Curly haired guy is cute! Wait, no, stick to the plan. _"Hi, can I ask you a question? I'm new here."

The guy offered his hand to shake and introduced himself, "My name's Blaine."

"Kurt."Kurt's immediate thought as he took his hand of_ Cute boy! Cute boy offering to touch me! _was quickly taken over by _Shaking hands... that's so civilised… honestly, who shakes hands nowadays?_

"So what exactly is going on?" Kurt inquired.

"The Warblers!" Seeing Kurt's puzzled expression Blaine explained. "Every now and then they throw an impromptu performance in the senior commons. It tends to shut the school down for a while."

"So, wait, the Glee club here is kind of cool?" Kurt couldn't wrap his head around the idea.

"The Warblers are like… rock stars." Blaine couldn't see how Kurt didn't get it, but the idea was clearly completely foreign to him. "Come on! I know a short cut."

The world around them seemed to slow down as Blaine took his hand again and led him down the corridor. Kurt couldn't comprehend what was happening – there was a guy holding another guy's hand in a school corridor and no-one was staring. No-one was even noticing it.

Kurt thought suddenly of Chris. Was this what his doppelganger had meant? Kurt knew that there were places where same sex touching was not noticed, but he'd always assumed that this was in big cities, out in the wider world. He'd certainly never thought that that would be the case in a high school anywhere in Ohio.

They burst into a wood panelled room, full of guys chatting away happily as they cleared space for the Warblers to perform. Uniformed guys.

"Ooh, I stick out like a sore thumb!"

"Well next time don't forget your jacket, new kid!" Blaine plucked and patted at his collar. "You'll fit right in."

_Again with the touching! This is unreal. I've never known any guy other than my dad or Chris who would… not even Mr Schue is comfortable enough to touch me… and he hugs Finn all the time._

"Now if you'll excuse me…" Blaine said, as the Warblers started up their backing harmonies.

_He's one of the Warblers! _Kurt thought as Blaine blended seamlessly into the group of singing uniformed teens. _Wait… he's their lead soloist! And they're singing Katy Perry! How is this even real..._

The thought about whether this was even real brought his mind back to Chris. That was a situation he hadn't thought could be real, either, but it had brought him more pleasure than any other relationship he'd had. Kurt grinned at the memory of their time together. _Wait, no, this is ridiculous! You're being sung to a cute guy with a great voice (who is your opposition for Sectionals!), and you're thinking about a guy who may or may not be imaginary. _Kurt blinked a few times and looked back at his surroundings. _He's singing to me… and no-one cares. This is so… nice. It just feels safe here._

The grin reappeared as the song continued. Blaine might not really have been singing it _to_ him, but he was certainly singing it in his general direction.

This was wonderful. This was bliss. This was all he'd ever hoped for in a school. If only there was some way he could get people to be like this at McKinley, then perhaps life would be more than just 'bearable'. Perhaps life would be good, and he wouldn't have to fall through a hole in the universe to actually meet a decent guy.

* * *

An unspecified amount of time later, Kurt was to be found sitting at a table with Blaine and two of the other Warblers.

"Latte?" Blaine offered, pushing a cup across the table toward him. "This is Wes and David," he said, gesturing at the two Warblers sitting with them.

"It's very civilised for you to invite me for coffee before you beat me up for spying."

Wes seemed to find the very thought of beating someone up amusing, like it was something he'd only ever seen on TV. "We're not going to beat you up."

David chipped in with, "You were such a terrible spy we thought it was sort of… endearing."

_I like him._

"Which made me think that spying on us wasn't really the reason you came," Blaine said with a serious expression on his face.

_That's one hell of a leap, Sherlock. I don't suppose it occurred to you that I'm just really shit at spying? It's all very well for you sit there with that smug grin on your face – your parents can afford to send you somewhere where they treat you like a decent human being rather than a leper. Do I really have to make my point this plainly?_

Kurt realised he would have to go through this step by step. "Can I ask you guys a question? Are you guys all gay?" _Because if you aren't, you don't get it. You won't realise what a big thing it is for me to be treated so decently._

Blaine grinned as he answered, "No. I mean, I am, but these guys have girlfriends."

_Alright then, fine. No need to laugh about it. It might sound like a jokey stereotype to you but I'm serious here. And also slightly disappointed that David is straight. He thought I was endearing!_

David was the next to speak: "This is not a gay school. We just have a zero tolerance harassment policy."

_So does McKinley, supposedly._

"Everybody gets treated the same, no matter what they are. It's pretty simple," Wes explained.

_So I'm a 'what' to you, not a 'who'? Wait… what? Everyone the same? No matter what? That's…. is that even possible?_

Kurt's disbelief that such a place could exist showed on his face, clear as day.

Blaine guessed how he feeling and asked the other guys to give them a moment alone. They left, bidding him goodbye in a friendly manner.

Once they had left, Blaine spoke. "I take it you're having trouble at school."

_You have no idea._

"I am the only person out of the closet at my school. And I try to stay strong about it, but… there's this Neanderthal who's made it his mission to make my life a living hell. And nobody seems to notice."

"I know how you feel."

Kurt rolled his eyes. The one sentence that has never made anyone feel better, in the history of anything, ever.

"I got taunted at my old school. And it really… pissed me off." Blaine had paused in the way that well-spoken people do just before they swear. "I even complained about it to the faculty."

_You think I haven't?_

"And they were sympathetic and all, but you could just tell that nobody really _cared_."

_Welcome to my life. But perhaps… maybe I'm not alone here._

"It was like 'Hey, if you're gay, your life's just gonna be miserable.'"

_But it's not. That's what Chris said._ Kurt clung on to that thought like a lifeline.

"'Sorry, nothing we can do about it.' So I left. I came here. Simple as that."

_So why are you making it sound like that's the worst possible option? Is life so depressing here? Here, where people don't care that you're gay? Here, where people are good to you, where you have male friends who aren't afraid to let you touch them?_

"So you have two options. I mean, I'd love to tell you to just come enrol here, but tuition at Dalton's sort of steep, and I know that's not an option for everybody. Or, you can refuse to be the victim. Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt, and you have a chance right now to teach him."

_Really? But he wouldn't listen to me, I'm just a punching bag to him. _"How?"

"Confront him. Call him out. I ran, Kurt, I didn't stand up, I let bullies chase me away, and it is something that I really, really regret."

_So you're saying life isn't better here? You don't think it would be better for me to just escape from all the harassment and hurt? _Blaine's advice left Kurt more confused than he was to start with.

* * *

Chris was sitting in his trailer, Diet Coke and Blackberry in hand. It was his lunch break during the filming of The Substitute – he had about forty five minutes before he had to go back to splashing around the giant water-tight soundstage.

His perusal of his Twitter feed was interrupted by an incoming call. No number was identified, and the ring tone was unusual. He didn't think it was any of the ones he had assigned to anyone, but the tune sounded familiar. He pressed the green 'answer' button and lifted the phone to his ear.

* * *

Kurt was sitting in his car having just pulled into the driveway, pondering Blaine's words, when his phone started to ring. Not any of his usual ringtones, but a synthesised version of the start of "I Know Him So Well". He fumbled for the cell phone and looked at the screen. "Unidentified Number."

Cautiously, he answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello?" Kurt's voice seemed to echo back at him as the caller responded.

"Who's calling?" Kurt asked.

"What do you mean? You called me," the other person replied.

A person who sounded incredibly familiar, Kurt realised as he spoke again, "No, I didn't, you-…. Chris?"

"Yes. Who's thi-…" Realisation hit Chris at approximately the same time. "Kurt?"

"Yes! How… how are you calling me?" Kurt asked.

"I don't know, my phone just started ringing," Chris explained.

"Mine too."

After a few minutes of chatting, establishing timelines, catching on life events, Kurt brought up his discussion with Blaine, wanting to know Chris's opinion.

Chris answered with a careful considered response. "It's not running away, Kurt. Not wanting to live in a place where you aren't safe is not cowardice. I know Blaine means well when he says that, but escaping from a place where people can't act like decent human beings is not running away. If I could have gone somewhere like Dalton, do you think I wouldn't have jumped at the chance?"

"Blaine said that prejudice was just ignorance, that I should stand up to him, educate him."

Chris thought for a moment, then made up his mind. If there was some way for him to stop the kiss from happening, he was going to try do it.

"It's not your job to educate him, Kurt. You're seventeen years old, you're still growing up. You have the right to grow up somewhere where you are safe. There are teachers, and politicians, and adults who should be teaching him. Not you, Kurt. You don't have to put yourself in harm's way just to try and educate an ignoramus like him."

"But Blaine's right. I have a chance right now to teach him. I can tell him that we're _not_ all total perverts, that we're people just like everyone else."

"Sometimes standing up to bullies just antagonises them, Kurt, and you might push him over the edge."

"Like I haven't before? Remember when he beat me up when we were doing Gaga? I can take it. Maybe if I try to get through to him, instead of just snapping at him, he'll actually listen."

"Kurt, please don't do it. I know what he'll do if you do it and it's horrible. I don't want you to have to go through it. It wasn't so bad for me, I was only acting, I know Max; he's not a bad person. Karofsky is, and he acts without compunction."

Kurt was silent for a moment as he considered Chris's words. "This is when it comes to a head, isn't it? The bullying, that scene you had to film? The one that made Rachel… I mean that girl who plays her… so worried about you."

Chris took a deep breath. "Yes."

"Then I've got to do this. Don't you see, Chris? This is how it has to be. My life is mapped out by your writers."

"It doesn't have to be, Kurt! You can change this! Make your life go a different route. Somehow… there must be a way. Why else would we have met up?"

Kurt shook his head, then realised that Chris couldn't see him.

"No. We met up so that we could help each other through the rough times. I'm sure of it. I needed you when my dad… when my dad was sick, and you needed me when you got through filming… filming what's about to happen. I daresay I'll be seeing you again soon." Kurt chuckled humourlessly. "When… when it's all over."

There was a long silence from Chris's end of the line. "You're braver than I am, Kurt. But then, you always have been." He sighed. "You know I'll be here for you, don't you? If you nee-… if you can get here."

"I know. Thank you for… for trying to keep me safe."

"I care about you a lot, Kurt. I don't want you to be hurt."

"I know. I'm grateful for it."

There didn't seem to be much else to say.

After they had bade each other goodbye and ended the call, Kurt and Chris both looked at their screens, and thought exactly the same thing:

_Out of area? Boy, I'll say!_

* * *

Kurt put the thoughts of Chris, Karofsky, and the future out of his mind as he settled down to watch the girls' mash up. He had to admit, they'd worked hard on their costumes, and the effort they'd put in certainly showed. And they did sound _amazing_

.

He was distracted by a low buzzing in his pocket as his cell phone vibrated. It was a text message from Blaine. A single word: Courage.

That one word made him finally make up his mind. He would have the courage to stand up to Karofsky, to try and educate his thick, pea-brained skull, to face up to his future.

He looked at the text again as he walked through the halls. Courage. That was all he needed. Now he had resolved what he was going to, he was almost eagerly anticipating the next time Karofsky attacked him. Now he felt like he could fight back, in some small way, he wasn't just a victim any more.

He didn't have to wait long. The phone was knocked out of his hand and he went flying into a locker. For once, another pupil actually looked shocked (he thought her name was Caitlyn, she was in his English class or something). But he didn't have time to be grateful for that now. He had a plan.

He yelled after Karofsky's retreating back, "Hey!"

Kurt pelted after him, following the massive teen into the locker room. "I am talking to you!"

"Girls' locker room's next door," the bully said dismissively.

"What is your problem?" Kurt asked angrily.

"Excuse me?"

_He's so _thick_, how can he not get this? Is he just deaf?_

"What are you so scared of?" Kurt tried hard to keep his genuine curiosity out of his voice.

"Besides you sneaking in here to peek at my junk?"

"Oh yeah, every straight guy's nightmare, that all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you. Well, guess what, hamhock? You're not my type."

Kurt didn't see the momentary hurt that flashed across Karofsky's face. Almost like he'd been hoping for a different answer, as he inquired sardonically, "That right?"

"I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are gonna be bald by the time they're thirty!"

Kurt didn't realise that it was hurt at his words as much as annoyance with his attitude that angered Karofsky.

"Do not push me, Hummel!"

'The Fury' loomed closer to Kurt's face. The only thing that kept Kurt from turning tail and running was the memory that Chris's face had been intact and perfect that last night. A line from The Princess Diaries suddenly flashed into his mind – _courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear. _Well, he, Kurt Hummel, had courage. And he had decided that this was more important than fear.

"You gonna hit me? Do it."

Kurt, with resolve that impressed even himself, managed not to flinch as Karofsky grabbed the open locker door and slammed it shut.

"Don't push me!"

"Hit me 'cause it's not gonna change who I am. You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I can punch the ignoramus out of you!" Kurt was angry now. _What gives him the right to be such a total dick? For him to act like it's my fault he has such anger issues?_

"Look, get out of my face!"

"You are nothing but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!"

Karofsky's right hand flew to Kurt's face, but instead of the expected pain in his jaw, Kurt felt a surprisingly soft, if horribly sweaty, hand take hold of his face. And then Karofsky's lips crashed into his. A slimy tongue worked its way into Kurt's mouth as he stood aghast.

_This isn't happening. Please let this not be happening._ Kurt couldn't think. His brain had short circuited. Karofsky, Dave Karofsky, Dave 'I'm so macho I'm gonna shove you around just for the hell of it because you're gay and you aren't worth anything better' Karofsky, had just kissed him. Him. A guy.

Kurt had made plenty of snipes about homophobia just being a cover for homosexuality in the past, but he'd never realised that it actually happened, that it could happen to someone he knew. That the jock who tormented him the most was actually the most closeted person he'd ever met.

Only Karofsky's pathetic whimper as he pulled away betrayed the pent up longing he must have felt. All it meant to Kurt was that this huge, hippopotamic lump of a boy had finally released him.

Kurt's fist, which had clenched when he saw Karofsky's hand fly toward him, remained where it was, close to his face as though he might protect himself. But nothing could protect him from what had happened.

The huge jock panted slightly and leaned back in, clearly hoping against hope that Kurt might respond in kind. Kurt shoved him away, horrified, and brought his hand to his lips. He felt utterly violated. But more than that, he felt betrayed. Chris had known what was coming, and he hadn't warned him. Oh, he'd told him not to do it, that it wasn't pleasant, but he'd let Kurt think he was going to be beaten up. He hadn't warned him about _this_, this feeling of unclean, of disgust, of _wrong_.

Karofsky punched the locker in frustration and stormed out of the room. He'd clearly, somewhere in his fucked up mind, thought that he might have had a chance with Kurt. Now that Kurt had rejected him so thoroughly, life could only get worse than before.

Kurt fled to the girls' bathroom, one of the only places in the school that he felt safe. He wanted to talk to Chris, to ask why he couldn't have told him what Karofsky was going to do to him. More than that, he wanted to hear his comforting voice, to feel his arms around him. To feel his gentle lips where Karofsky's had been harsh, rough. To be in that world where things like this didn't happen.

But he couldn't. His contact with the young actor was entirely at the whimsy of some higher power. The only person he thought he might be able to trust was Blaine. He'd only known him a few days, but he was the one person in this world who might understand even an iota of what Kurt was going through. Blaine was a distant second place to Chris's first, but a second choice was better than no-one at all.

He sighed, picked up his phone, and dialled.

* * *

"Thanks for coming, again." _Standing up to someone's always easier when you have backup. Azimio and Karofsky have been using that tactic for years. Why didn't I think to use it earlier?_

"Don't worry about it. Let me do the talking."

_I hope you know what you're doing. _Kurt spotted Karofsky making his way down the stairs. "There he is."

"I got your back." Blaine reassured him before he approached the burly jock. "Excuse me?"

"Hey, ladyboys. This your boyfriend, Kurt?"

Blaine saw the spark of jealousy pass through Karofsky's eyes as he spoke. Kurt, however, missed it.

"Kurt and I would like to talk to you about something."

"I gotta go to class," the bully said, pushing his way past.

"Kurt told me what you did." Blaine's remark stopped Karofsky in his tracks.

He turned to look up at the two boys, "Oh yeah? What's that?"

"You kissed me." Karofsky glanced nervously around, as though afraid someone might have overheard. He also look oddly surprised that Kurt had said it aloud.

Kurt rolled his eyes at Karofsky's reaction. _I mean really, what did you expect me to say?_

"I don't know what you're talking about." The bigger boy was definitely nervous now.

"It seems like you might be a little confused, and that's totally normal." _Way to patronise him, Blaine. That'll get him on our side._

"This is a very hard thing to come to terms with and you should just know that you're not alone."

_This isn't working, Blaine. He won't let himself relate to you and me. We're too different, we're not jocks. He can't understand us any more than we understand him._

"Do not mess with me," Karofsky growled as he thundered up the stairs and pinned the uniformed boy to the grating.

"Stop this!" Kurt yelled, using strength he didn't know he had to push the bigger boy away from Blaine. For a moment, Karofsky looked almost ashamed of himself. Like he regretted causing Kurt such anguish. Then he fled, doing his best to not let anyone see his turmoil.

"Well, he's not coming out any time soon."

_Go ahead, make jokes. Him not coming out means that he makes my life a living hell for even longer. I'm glad you can find some levity in this because I'm finding it kind of hard to right now. _

"What's going on? Why are so upset?"

_My first real life kiss was stolen by a Neanderthal who won't even admit that he kissed me, and it looks like he's going to be punishing me for it for the rest of my high school life. Nothing major, you know, the usual. I'm sure you with your stupid chirpy optimism would be just fine but I'm kind of struggling with things right now._

"Because up until yesterday I have never been kissed. Or at least, one that counted." _How can you not get this?_

"Come on. I'll buy you lunch."

_You can't pay your way out of every unpleasant situation, Blaine._ Still, Kurt sighed, rose and followed him.

* * *

Chris had just slid the latch across on his front door at the end of a hard day's filming when he heard the now familiar flump of Kurt landing in his bathroom. He saw the hollow look to Kurt's face, like someone had stolen yet one more slice of his soul from him.

Chris enveloped the miserable looking boy in his arms, holding him close and safe. He knew better than anyone else alive what a hellish few days Kurt had been through.

For a moment, Kurt just let himself be held, but then that feeling of betrayal came flooding back in full force. He pulled back, pushed Chris sharply away, and glared at him accusingly as he cried, "Why didn't you tell me? You could have warned me!"

A horrible feeling of guilt washed over Chris. Kurt was right, he could have prepared him better for what was coming. But then he would have had to be the one who delivered the news, rather than letting Kurt live in comparatively blissful ignorance.

"I just couldn't. I knew what hell it was going to be and I couldn't make myself tell you something so awful!"

"Why not? Why couldn't you tell me?"

"Because I couldn't be the one to make you feel like I felt when I read that script!"

"I- you- what?"

"I know it's selfish, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you! I remember how I felt when I read what was going to happen. Even thought I knew it would be with Max, who such a nice guy, I couldn't help but be scared. And knowing that my first kiss with a guy would be with a guy who was pretending to assault me just made it all the worse. I couldn't make myself be the one to inflict that on you, Kurt, I just couldn't." The note of desperation in Chris's voice was clear.

For the first time, Kurt really saw the effect of all the years of bullying on the man standing before him.

Kurt spoke softly, gently, as he asked, "Why couldn't you do that to me?"

"Because I care about you too much, Kurt! Isn't that obvious?" Chris looked at him with a half exasperated, half pitying look, then sighed. "Come on. Let's go somewhere a bit more comfortable than my bathroom."

Chris took Kurt's hand in response to the younger boy's nod and led him out of the en suite into his bedroom. A slight change in pressure as Kurt gently tugged his hand made him change direction towards his bed, rather than his original plan of going through to the living room.

Kurt scrambled onto Chris's bed and sat cross legged in the middle of it, looking expectantly at Chris, who followed his example and mirrored his position on the bed.

"Chris, I need to ask you… is Blaine going to be my boyfriend? You told me that I was going to get one."

Chris sighed before he responded, "I don't know. I honestly don't know. Ryan changes his mind so often that I've given up trying to keep track. Most of the fans seem to think so, but some think it might just be red herring, like Sam was."

"Sam?"

"It got leaked that your new boyfriend's name was Sam, so loads of people jumped on that bandwagon, and then I think Ryan made him straight just to mess with people a bit. You know, do the opposite of what people expect, and so on."

"So it _isn't _going to be Sam?" Kurt asked with a disappointed look.

"I don't think so, no. Chord was _not_ enthusiastic about the idea." Chris laughed at the memory, though it had hurt his feelings more than somewhat at the time. He noted Kurt's baffled face and explained that Chord played Sam.

"So basically, my love life is based on this Ryan guy playing the audience like a musical instrument?"

"Pretty much. Sucks, doesn't it?"

Kurt nodded vigorously, a look of melancholy spreading across his face. His life was in the hands of a guy who cared more about audience reaction than having happy characters. _Well, I suppose that's how it should be. Look at Edward Scissorhands, Good Morning Vietnam, the Posner guys in History Boys. Those films wouldn't have been half so good if the characters had been _happy_._

Suddenly all Chris wanted to do was kiss that look away. To see himself looking so sad, so dejected – he couldn't bear it. He shifted into a kneeling position and leant forward to rest his hand on Kurt's arm.

"You know that anything that happens here, you're in charge of? No-one's writing a script off-camera. It's just you and me."

"I know." A small smile began to creep onto Kurt's face. He also shifted his position and grasped Chris's other arm in his free hand. Neither was sure who pulled who closer, but suddenly their faces were barely three inches apart.

"Can I kiss you, Kurt? I completely understand if you don't want to."

"Please, please do. I need _you_ right now." Kurt tried to put his feelings into words, the feeling that Chris could make all the hurt go away, make him forget about the world from which he came.

And so Chris did.

As his lips met Kurt's, that comfortable feeling of _right_, of home, spread over him. As Chris released Kurt's arm to caress his neck, Kurt moved his now free hand to Chris's waist, pulling him closer so their bodies were pressed together. They both knelt on the bed, hands beginning to explore further and further as they remembered their previous times together.

In a single moment, Kurt took control. It was as thought, in an instant, all the power, all the decision-making, had been given from Chris to Kurt, thought through no outwardly visible gesture. Kurt slowly, firmly, yet still ever-so-gently, pushed Chris down onto the bed, moving himself so that his body covered Chris's.

Chris knew how Kurt felt. He needed to be in control. He needed to feel that there was one part of his life in which he really had a say. As for himself? He was quite happy to just relax and let Kurt do with him as he wished. And that thing that he was doing with his tongue was really rather magical, so he wasn't about to start complaining.

Clothes were gradually removed, piece by piece. Neither boy hurried, content to take their time. Kurt explored Chris's body with his hands and tongue, revelling in having someone so willing to do this for him, to give himself over entirely to Kurt's control.

Finally, they were both down to their underwear, Chris's head thrown back as he tried not to squirm in pleasure. Kurt was straddling his thighs, tongue deftly working its way down from Chris's nipples to the waistband of his boxers, tracing a line past his belly button. He glanced up fingers halting in their ministrations, to check that Chris was happy for this to continue further.

Chris looked up at the sudden pause, gazing down at Kurt with lust-blown eyes, his expression questioning why Kurt had stopped. Reassured, Kurt slipped his fingertips into the waistband and grasped hold tightly, keeping his eyes locked on his lover's the entire time. He pulled them deftly down , and threw the boxers to the other side of the room

Kurt quickly shimmied out of his own boxer-briefs, depositing them over the side of the bed. He placed his hands on Chris's hipbones, holding him in place, and moved his mouth to lap at the tip of Chris's rapidly hardening cock.

Chris tried to just lie there and enjoy it, but his hips had other ideas, repeatedly attempting to thrust up into the warm, wet heat that was Kurt's mouth. Kurt just increased the downwards pressure on Chris's hips and went with it, opening his mouth to allow Chris to thrust shallowly into it.

The knowledge that Chris was feeling this pleasure because of him, because he, Kurt, had chosen to do this… it was wonderful.

There came a point, however, when his own need became too great for him to ignore. Kurt leaned over the side of the bed and fumbled in the cupboard for the lube they'd used before, then cursed as he realised he'd brought it back to his own world that first time they'd been together.

Chris smiled, seeming to find Kurt's annoyance somewhat amusing from his supine position.

"On top of the cabinet," he suggested.

Kurt spotted the non-descript paper bag on top of the small cupboard, and reached inside. There was a brand new pump-lid bottle of lube. A prurient grin spread across Kurt's face as he reached over and squirted some into his hand, rapidly slinking his way back down Chris's body to lube up his entrance. He'd done some research since last time, so he knew more or less what to do.

He started with a single finger, slowly, teasing. Chris couldn't help himself; he tried to push himself down on Kurt's finger, trying to get him to reach that spot deep inside… Kurt added a second finger, slowing down more as he did so. Kurt slowly moved his fingers, twisting up and in, enjoying watching Chris writhe around, impaled upon his hand, trying to increase the speed of his movements, which were tortuously slow.

Kurt spread his fingers wide inside the older boy, stretching him out. He added more lube with his other hand, making sure that everything was sufficiently slippery that no-one would get hurt. As he moved to add a third finger, Chris's arm reached down blindly, grabbing at his shoulder to get his attention.

"Do it now." Chris's words sounded almost strangled as he tried to form a coherent sentence. "I want to feel it… I want to feel _you_."

Kurt couldn't say no to a proposition like that. He moved himself up, bracing his arms on either side of Chris's chest, positioning his cock so that he could slide in.

Kurt entered Chris's body slowly, tenderly. He wanted to feel close, safe. He wanted to make love with the beautiful man beneath him. He didn't want the harsh, cruel advances of an overweight jock; he wanted the warm, comforting intimacy of two men in love. What he and Chris had might not yet be love, but it was more than he'd hoped for, more than he'd thought he'd get in his lonely life.

Chris felt the hot, slow drag of Kurt's cock inside him. He felt the way the boy was panting above him, his every breath resonating through his body and into Chris's.

"Kurt…" The single syllable escaped his mouth in a long breath.

As Kurt filled him to the hilt, his balls pressing against his backside, Chris had never felt more wanted, more needed. More loved.

Kurt transferred his weight onto his left arm so that he could stroke his right hand down Chris's jawline. He gazed into the matching glasz eyes and saw the depth of trust and affection within them. It almost frightened him, the overwhelming feeling of being so close to another person, but instead a thrill of joy rushed through him. He brought his lips down to meet Chris's as he carefully started to withdraw, only to slide back inside as Chris's muscles pulled tight around him, not wanting to let him pull out even to thrust back in.

Chris's hips moved slightly, altering the angle at which Kurt was buried deep inside him. Kurt pulled back, barely an inch, and then thrust himself steadily back inside with a long, smooth motion.

Chris groaned in response, but the noise was swallowed into Kurt's mouth as he kissed the man beneath him. Kurt repeated the motion, and this time a gasp was elicited from the older man, seeming to suck all of the air from Kurt's lungs. He had clearly hit his prostate.

Kurt slid out and in, gradually building up a slow and steady rhythm. Neither of them wanted to go any faster, simply taking pleasure from what was happening between the two of them, blissfully happy in each other's arms.

Chris's hands gradually felt their way up Kurt's chest to roll his nipples between his fingertips as they continued to kiss. This time it was Kurt's turn to groan into his partner's mouth.

Chris could feel Kurt's thrusts grow more and more erratic, and his breathing grow more and more laboured.

"I love you." The quiet words slipped past Kurt's gasping lips as pleasure overtook him and his climax reached him.

"Love you too." Chris's words were barely audible as he felt the warm wetness of Kurt's come fill him up. Kurt slipped out and fell back on the pillows on Chris's left hand side, exhausted.

Chris reached down to jerk himself with his left hand, knowing that he was only a few strokes away from coming himself. He heard Kurt's whisper to him: "Come on me. I want to be yours."

_And no-one else's._ The words hovered, unsaid, between them.

Chris rolled over on his side, hand still working his cock. He rested his right hand on Kurt's curved behind as he felt the first waves of orgasm wash through him. He came over Kurt's stomach, and a happier smile had never been seen on Kurt's face than there was in that moment.

Both of them reached out, holding the other close as their heavy breathing slowly settled. They didn't care about the mess, the dampness or the stickiness. In that moment, they needed only each other to make the world right again.

* * *

The next day, Kurt stood in the hallway of McKinley High. He gazed at the word pasted up in his locker. "Courage." That was the message Chris had given him. Have the courage to carry on when your life seems to be falling apart about you.

He looked up at the picture of Blaine above it. He knew that he should be falling for Blaine right around now, but he couldn't. Not now he knew Chris. Chris supported him without patronising him. Chris listened to him. Chris truly cared about him. And sex with Chris was _amazing_. They knew each other's bodies so intimately because they lived in each other's bodies twenty-four seven.

That was something Blaine could never offer him. But Blaine was real, he was solid, he was there in the real world, at the other end of a phone line, whenever Kurt wanted to talk to him. And perhaps he would just have to make do.

His train of thought was broken as Karofsky appeared yet again to shove him into a locker. This was all getting too much. _I don't think I can take this much longer._ He fell down in a heap at the bottom of the locker. A passing blonde girl looked at him, and a slightly disgusted look appeared on her face as she glanced after Karofsky. The expression changed to one of 'oh God, just keep walking, don't get involved' as she looked at Kurt. Kurt didn't even have the energy to sarcastically apologise to her for allowing himself to be treated so violently in her presence. McKinley was a losing battlefield and he knew it.

* * *

**Six Months Later**

Kurt rolled over in his bed at Dalton Academy and looked at the picture of himself and Blaine. They were laughing and smiling at the camera, and Blaine had his arm around Kurt's back.

Kurt knew that Blaine was a good guy, and that he understood, to some extent, what Kurt's life had been like before he came to Dalton. But there would never be a guy as perfect as the one whom he hadn't seen in six long months. Whom he was sure now he would never see again. The guy who had been there for him when it felt like no-one else was.

Kurt didn't care if it meant he was completely narcissistic – no-one in real life could ever measure up to the young actor with the nervous smile and the unassuming manner. The young actor who had stolen thousands of hearts the world over. Kurt alone had the satisfaction of knowing that he had stolen Christopher Colfer's heart right back.

**THE END**

**

* * *

They say that "I was bored so…" is a sentence that never ends well. I'll leave you to decide whether "…. so I wrote a tragic love story between a fictional character and the actor who plays him" is a good or bad ending to that sentence.**


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